Words I never thought I’d say this time last year:

I signed with a literary agent.
I signed a publishing contract.
I have an editor.
I am an author.

What I could say this time last year:

I was frustrated.
I felt left behind and disheartened that the publishing world moved all around me while I stood still.

I worried I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t have the English lit or creative writing degree, or a handful of completed manuscripts under my belt.

I’d gotten into Pitch Wars. I did the work with my mentor and made amazing friends in the process. And I understood from the beginning that Pitch Wars wasn’t an answer to my prayers. It was a tool to help me hone my craft.

Still, I watched my fellow mentees sign with dream agents and land seven-figure book deals. I’d seen the release date news, cover reveals and read about the movie options. I cheered my friends on thinking the entire time that I’m not any good––that I’d never have those celebrations or get to experience those accomplishments.

But, I also developed friendships with a core group of writers that understood my angst on a level that people who don’t write can’t understand. Together, we wrestled with self-doubt and rejection, leaning on one another for support. Our bond was so strong we wanted to expand our reach to other romance writers who wanted that support regardless of writing level.

Still, I wondered why I wasn’t good enough.

Because that’s what writers do. We write, and we edit, and we query, and we participate in pitch events, then we write something new. We stand with our noses pressed to the glass storefront watching the cool kids buy candy hoping we’ll get invited along for the adventure of a lifetime. Meanwhile, we don’t realize we’re living the more crucial adventure while we strive to reach our destination.

Why not me? When will it be my turn? Why aren’t I good enough?

We’re told each journey is unique, publishing isn’t a competition between writers, and you can’t compare your path to that of someone else.

Yet, I don’t know a single writer who hasn’t drawn those horrific lines of comparison.

It’s also incredibly confusing to be simultaneously ecstatic for your friends and sad that it wasn’t you. Nobody ever talks about that. The envy and shame–the imperfect, yet human, responses we have while watching others achieve what we so desperately hope to obtain. And the guilt that inevitably follows for wishing it was us.

The things I told myself over the last year when I doubted my own journey.

I am hopeful and determined.
I am tenacious and I’m learning how to be a better writer.
I am not giving up on my dream.
I am only a failure if I don’t try.

What I’ve learned between last year and now?

The journey serves a purpose.

THE JOURNEY SERVES A PURPOSE.

I have developed friends in the writing community I know will be there to help me through the dark moments.

I know I’m tough enough to handle the bad book reviews because dealing with rejection made my skin thick.

I know I can handle whatever the industry throws at me.

As authors, we think we understand how important the journey is, but I really didn’t grasp that until now. Truth is, we ALL want to rush through and skip to the end where we’ve become the next J.K. Rowling.
But the most shocking thing I’ve learned?

It’s not about the endgame.

When will it be me? Why not me? When is it my turn?

You’re going to hate my answers because you’ve heard them before…
When you’ve made the journey, learned the skills––not just writing, but coping, self-care and patience––you’re going to need. When you’ve learned to embrace the rejections and setbacks just as much as the victories, and can see them for the opportunities they are.

When you’ve allowed yourself to ponder why not me, and felt ALL the things––the excitement and envy, shame and kinship, hope and frustration.
When you’ve embraced every nuance of the path you walk, can appreciate the journey for the preparation it provides and can remember to glean as much as possible from your trip.

To use a horrible cliche, life is a journey, not a destination. The same is true of the road to getting published. The journey––and what we learn from it––is more valuable than the book we publish at the end.

“Little do ye know your own blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, and the true success is to labour.” –Robert Louis Stevenson

I have a literary agent.
I signed a publishing contract.
I have an editor.
I am an author.

This time last year, I couldn’t have said any of those things. Don’t give up your dreams, and appreciate the journey you’re on.